Who Am I to Say?

I'm sick. My back is killing me. My head hurts. My throat is sore. My heart is aching.
I can't seem to lie down. If I don't distract myself, I'll lie and stir about thinking.
Distracting myself seems to help me hurt less emotionally, but not physically.
I'd rather be hurt outside, but why does it have to be both my body and my heart?
I'm so foolish, wrapped in stupidity. I wish he would call me. Still waiting.
The future scares me now. I always looked forward to it, but it's so frightening.
I still can't wait to move out, but I feel as if I lost everything.
If this depression is something because I'm mentally sick or some shit, I wish somebody would cure it.
I miss smiling. When he asked why I was always so happy, I told him, I really wasn't.
But this? It's so much worse. I wish I could be myself again.
I need to talk to something/someone other than this blog. Other than myself.
Help. I hate this feeling of loss and emptiness. Take me back to last week.
But then, who would understand? I don't even know why I feel this way.